Heather Mason: Rent Money
by AlexK86
Summary: Two months after the events of Silent Hill 3, Heather Mason moves into a downtown apartment. After her one-night-stand abandons her, she's visited by the landlord. Unable to pay the rent, he makes her pay her rent with her body. IF YOU WANT MORE STORIES LIKE THIS, PLEASE FAV, FOLLOW, & REVIEW! Warning: Explicit Sexual Content and Coarse Language!


**Disclaimer: Heather Mason belongs to Konami and 'Silent Hill'**

**Warning: This story contains EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT! Do not read if you are not comfortable with that.**

**If you like this, please check out my other stories. I have Resident Evil and Silent Hill fan fiction. And please FOLLOW, FAV, & REVIEW!**

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**Heather Mason:**

**Rent Money**

_'He's gone.'_

Heather Mason lies on a bed in a dingy apartment room. The room is a mess, clothes and possessions are scattered around. An acoustic guitar lies in the corner, one broken string curling upwards. Next to it sits a bong and a half-empty bag of marijuana. By her bed there's a nightstand, with nothing but a lamp and a opened pack of cigarettes. Green neon light flows in through the window, the blinds creating horizontal shafts which spread across the room. There is steady tapping of rainfall on the window, causing the incoming light to swirl and distort hypnotically. Heather lies silently, the blankets bunched up next to her. On the floor next to the bed, Heather's clothing. A black silk dress shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and black-lace bra and panties.

She fidgets with a lock of her hair. Now almost down to her shoulders, the last two-thirds of her hair are dyed blonde, while first few inches from the root are her natural brown. Sullen, Heather's hazel eyes stare up at a water spot on the ceiling above, disconsolate expression marking her face. Around her neck she wears a black choker, otherwise she's naked. Her free arm rests over her small supple breasts, her nails painted black. Her mid-riff is toned, her muscles showing faintly around her pierced naval. Soft, light hair is visible between her thighs, neatly groom. Her long, thin legs are crossed over at the knees slightly. Her toenails are painted black as well and, sighing heavily, she runs one delicate foot against her calf.

_'He's gone,' _the words echo in her head

Last night Heather had gone to a downtown bar. Alone, as usual. After more than her share of drinks, she'd met him. A handsome man. A charming man. Within that dreary, smoke-filled bar he had told her everything she wanted to here. She was beautiful, she was special, he was falling in love. It was more than enough for her to take him home. Drunk as she was, she was still afraid that he'd turn tail and run the moment he saw the wretched apartment she lived it. But he didn't. They came to this very room and had sex twice before they went to sleep. He said she was the best he ever had, and they talked of all the things they would do tomorrow. Yet, when she woke up, _he was gone_. She knew he wouldn't call her, she didn't even have a phone. She never even had the opportunity to tell him that today was her birthday.

_'Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday to you... Happy Birthday, dear... Oh, I forgot your name."_

Almost three months had passed since her nightmare in Silent Hill. In many ways, things were easier there. Heather never realised how hard it was to find a job. She had no job experience and no parents to support her. Downtown, Heather had found the only apartment she could afford, and frankly, she couldn't afford that either. She had managed to scrape up enough cash to pay the deposit and first two months rent, but her third payment was eighteen days behind. She had managed to convince her landlord to wait a week, then two, and now she was approaching the third.

Slowly, Heather sits up. Resting her arms on her knees, she hangs her head, staring at the bedsheets between her legs. The vision of her father's face floats into her mind – warm, loving, non-judgemental. The memory cuts into her heart. Squeezing her eyes shut, she feels tears welling in her eyes. _'I miss you so much,'_ she says to her father's drifting memory, _'what would you think of me if you saw me today?'_

But no sooner is the question asked as a sound jolts her from her sullen daydream. She looks to its source. Turning, she sits on the side of her bed, listening intently. It comes again - a knock on her door. _'It's him,' _she thinks in a panic, _'He came back!'_

"Just a minute," Heather shouts, picking up her bra and panties, and putting them on hurriedly.

_'I can't believe he's back'._ A nervous excitement flutters in her stomach. Standing up, she grabs her jeans and wobbles from side-to-side as she puts them on. She grabs her shirt and slides her arms through the sleeves. The knock comes again.

"I'll be right there!" she shouts.

Doing up four buttons of the shirt, she runs from her room and through the dirty, cluttered kitchen to the front door of her apartment. _'Get yourself together, Heather,' _she says to herself, _'don't come off as desperate'._ With one bare foot, she pushes aside a pair of black high heels then opens the door.

"I was wondering where -"

Her landlord stands in the doorway. Wearing a wrinkled flannel over a white under-shirt, her leans against the doorway. His short-brown hair is askew and the stubble on his face is just shy of a beard. He looks at her impatiently.

"Where's the rent?" he barks, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Oh -" Heather blurts out, caught off guard by her unexpected visitor, "I – I need a few more days."

"A few more days," he echoes mockingly, stepping into her apartment.

"Look," Heather says, her tone almost pleading, "I know I'm behind, but I'm working on finding a job... As soon as I get one -"

"No," he says conclusively, his tone domineering.

He grabs the door and closes it firmly, then turns the padlock. She looks at the door, then at him, perplexed. He's a large man, and Heather's intimidated by his aggressive mannerisms.

"What are you doing?"

"We need to settle this, now."

"I don't know what to say... I can't pay you."

"Not with money," he replies, his eyes drifting up and down her body.

"What – what?" Heather mumbles meekly, letting out a nervous laugh.

Reaching forward he grabs her shirt and rips it open, the buttons scattering outward, he black bra exposed. For a split-second she's too shocked to react.

Reflexively, her hand comes up, slapping him across the face. Her landlord snaps. His big hands grab her arms, he twists the muscle and wrenches her arms upwards, causing Heather to let out a sharp yelp of pain. Pushing her backwards, he leans in close, his teeth clenched.

"Listen, you bitch! Listen fucking closely! You're a going to take your clothes off and do exactly what I say, or I'm throwing your worthless, white-trash ass out on the streets, tonight!"

He shoves her to ground, Heather grunting as she falls. With one leg under her, she pushes herself up with one arm, looking up at him with wide, terrified eyes. The corners of her lips tremble. He looks at her for a moment, waiting for her to respond. When she doesn't, he leans over her and points to her bedroom door.

"In the bedroom," he commands.

Slowly, Heather climbs to her feet. With her head lowered slightly, she walks into her darkened bedroom. The rain still rattles on her window pane as the rain-distorted green glow washes the room. She stops in in the middle, her landlord walking past her to sit on her bed. He looks around the room with a disgusted expression.

"This place is a mess... Alright, bitch, lose the clothes."

Heather hesitates for a moment, then concedes, realising there's no way out. _'It's this or the street,' _she tells herself. She slides her torn shirt from her shoulders and drops it to the ground. As she reaches around to undo her bra strap, she arches her back slight, accentuating her toned mid-riff. The strap snaps open and she casts her bra to the floor. His eyes run over her small, perky breasts hungrily. Heather's lips tremble again and she bites her bottom lip to stop it. Next she undoes the button, then the zipper of her jeans. As she does so, he mirrors her, undoing his pants and casting them on the floor. Grabbing the sides, she wiggles her waist as she pulls her pants down, then draws her dainty feet out. Taking in a deep breath, she grabs the band of her panties.

"Slowly," he instructs her.

She draws them downward and her landlord smiles as he sees her light pubic hair. She bends low to pull them past her knees then drops them. She straightens up. The landlord looks over her, grinning. He takes off his white boxers and drops them atop his jeans.

"I knew you'd look good... but, _wow_."

Leaning back on his arms his exposed erection points upwards.

"Alright," he says, "let's see what you can do with the cute little mouth of yours."

Meekly, Heather walks over to him, dragging her feet reluctantly. Standing in front of him, she drops to her knees. A deep shame envelopes her as she reaches out and grabs him. She leans in, then stops.

"What are you waiting for?"

Grabbing the back of her head, he pushes her forward, her closed lips touching the tip his cock. Her lips quiver as she opens her mouth and slides her lips over the head. Heather goes numb. Sliding her head forward, she takes it in as far as possible, then draws back. Her tongue glides along its shaft. Forward again, and her landlord exhales, his fingers running over her scalp. The motions continue, mechanically, as Heather bobs her head back and forth. Drawing back to the head, she runs her tongue over it. _'Maybe if I can make him come, he won't want to...'_ She places her left hand under him, cupping carriage and massaging it slightly. She feels cold and dirty, but she finds herself getting wet in spite of it. She takes his manhood from mouth and runs her lips across the shaft. He lets out a slight moan. Heather takes it back in her mouth.

"Look up at me, babe."

She complies, looking up at him with large, tear-filled doe eyes. As she pumps forwards and back, she can taste a trace of semen. _'Go faster, Heather'. _ She picks up the pace hoping to finish this as quickly as possible. He groans, and Heather pumps faster, going deeper than she had before, till she can feel it at the back of her throat. Heather can feel herself getting wetter, a drop of her juice rolling down one thigh. She pushes her head in, as far as it can go, but at that moment, he grabs her hair and wrenches her head back.

He's panting heavily and laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. Heather looks back at him, her lips wet with saliva. She wipes it with back of her hand, her expression worried.

"You've sucked your share of cocks," he says mockingly. In truth she had only done it a few times, "Stand up."

She rises to her feet. _'He's gonna wanna go all the way,' _she thinks, panicking. He runs his hands over her sides and across her butt. Placing a hand between her legs, he slides a finger between her pussy lips. When he draws his finger back it's wet.

"You need it, honey."

He grabs his shirt, pulls it over his head, and drops it on the floor. His chest is hairy and he has a slight gut. Grabbing her by the waist, he directs her to lie on her back. Revulsion seizes her as his hands grasps her knees to pull them apart. Heather resists, squeezing her legs together.

"Hey," he barks, giving her a menacing look, "spread your _fucking_ legs!"

Slowly, she eases and her legs open. Crawling up, he plants his face between her thighs. She feels his tongue come out, running between her lips and over her clit. A mix of pleasure and shame wash over as his licks and kisses her, hungrily. She closes her eyes and tries to clear her mind, but his touch, the sounds, drag her back to reality. With one parting kiss, he climbs on top of her. His hand gropes her breasts and he stares at her a moment, smiling, revelling in her pained expression. Reaching down, he grabs his cock and guides it to her vagina. With a push, he slides inside her and Heather lets out a slight cry – half pleasure, half disgust.

"God, you're tight!" he gasps and groans.

Heather lies flat and motionless as he begins to slowly thrust inside her. With each motion she can feel herself expanding. A sick sensation fills the pit of her stomach as pleasure flows with each forward thrust. He begins moving faster, pushing deeper inside her. _'Get it out of me!'_ He pulls her legs up, putting her knees over his shoulder, and climbs forward, so that she's curled into a 'C' position. She looks away as continues driving inside her. It feels so good, and she hates her self for it. He grabs her chin, and turns her face to his. He leans in as he thrusts to kiss her, but Heather presses her lips together tightly.

"Bitch!" he hisses.

He grabs her by the hair and wrenches her head back violently. She cries out. Her mouth opening as she screams out presses his lips against hers, giving her an open mouthed kiss. Heather can taste her own pussy as his tongue wriggles around her mouth.

"I'm paying for this, bitch," he says, "so you do what I say."

Heather nods acquiescently.

"Say, yes _sir_."

"Yes, sir," she echoes, her voice trembling, her eyes red and welled with tears.

"Turn over," he commands her, pulling out, "ass up."

She rolls over slowly, getting on her knees and elbows. He gives her two hard slaps on one cheek, then a wet, open-mouth kiss on the other.

"That's a cute ass," he mumbles, running a hand between her legs.

Kneeling behind her, Heather feels sick as he slides inside her once more. Grabbing her tightly around her waist he begins thrusting again. This time he starts out much faster. At this angle, he's hitting Heather's G-spot and despite how much he disgusts her, she feels an intense pleasure. In spite herself, she begins to make faint _ah_ sounds with every thrust. He pounds at her faster and faster, his waist slapping against her rear, and she can feel her approaching climax. The landlord leans forward and squeezes one breast. He drives inside her harder and harder. _'Don't come, don't come, don't come'._ But he drives harder, her tight, wet pussy gripping his cock. He slams into her so hard she feels like her arms will collapse beneath her. _'Don't come, don't come, don't come... not with him'._ She can hear herself moaning, as if it were someone else. His drives against her G-spot, faster and faster. _'Don't come Heather, don't come'._ But she can't stop it. Her toes scrunch up, her back arches. Heather throws her head back.

_Ugh! Ugh! Ughhh! Ughhhh! Ughhhhhhh! Ughhhhhhhhhhhh!_

She has an intense orgasm and squirts around his cock. That seems to set her landlord off. Using both hands to grab her waist, he slams into her with violent, machinegun speed. Her wetness is all over her thighs. He rams her faster, slight jolts of pain cutting through her now. Harder and _harder_.

"I'm gonna come," he says, she turns to look at him, her expression desperate.

"Not inside me!"

"Shut the fuck up."

He grabs the back of her head and pushes her face into the mattress. Driving into her, her body bends into an awkward position and his cock drives painfully into her vagina at an upward angle. She lets out muffled yelps of pain, but he doesn't listen. He slams into her more aggressively. _;God,' _she thinks, _'he's gonna rip me!'_

_Ughhh! God! Ughhh! Shit! Ughhhhhh!_

Heather feels his cock throbbing as he begins to come inside her. His forceful thrusts begin to slow. She feels the come pump inside her in intermittent bursts, filling her. Painting heavily his thrusts slow more and more, become gentle. Still more come, though it too slows. Retching, Heather feels as though she's going to puke. Slowing to a stop, he gives her one more deep push, his head pressing against her cervix, then draws back, panting.

Heather rolls onto her side and stares at the door with a distant expression. She feels his seed begin to leak out her vagina across her already soaking thighs. Now that the pleasure is gone, all she feels is shame, violation, _hollowness_. Her father's face floats into her mind once more, but there is no love in his eyes, only disgust and shame. The landlord is already dressing, but Heather just lies there, trying to leave her body. He rises from the bed and pulls on his shirt, his cheeks rosy. Looking down on her with a satisfied grin, he lets out a mocking laugh.

"Don't put up that act, bitch, you came too."

He looks over her for a moment, then shakes his head and gives her a dismissive wave. Turning he walks from her bedroom to the front door.

"Have the rent next month," he calls over his shoulder, "or we'll be doing this again."


End file.
